


Finally

by alyjude_sideburns



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Christmas, Holidays, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-08 23:41:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyjude_sideburns/pseuds/alyjude_sideburns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is alone for the Christmas holiday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally entitled "The Holiday Invitation" but has been revised as of 4/12 and the title changed as well.

  **Finally by alyjude**  


 

Okay, yes, he was fucking lonely - happy now?

And Blair had only been gone three days.

Hell, he'd only been married to Carolyn two months when she'd left to attend a conference and he'd barely registered her absence so there was no fucking way he should miss Sandburg to whom he was _not_ married and hello? Again, it had only been three short days. And didn't he have peace and quiet now? And the bathroom all to himself, not to mention the fact that he could stuff himself until the fifth of January without a certain arched eyebrow making him feel guilty at every bite of something else that would undoubtedly harden his arteries. Therefore…he should be grateful that Naomi wanted to spend the holidays with Blair…even it they were in fucking Florida.

He looked around his home and sniffed disdainfully. Okay, okay, yes, he'd decorated and yes, he was eating smart even without that damned know-it-all eyebrow, and _yes_ , while loathe to admit it - he hated the peace and quiet. Oh, yeah, and there was also the small detail about having special plans for tonight, Christmas Eve, plans that had involved a brief conversation with the owner of the arched eyebrow, a conversation assisted by both the holiday croonings of Frank Sinatra and spiked eggnog. A conversation that would have gone something like:

_"I'd like to boink your brains out seven ways from sundown and until I'm ninety-five."_

At which point, he and Sandburg would have…yes, boinked seven ways from sundown to sunrise and back again.

Of course, 'boinking' wasn't the word he'd have actually chosen - but Blair would have - and secretly? Secretly, Jim liked it. Somehow, saying, "Fucking your brains out" seemed less loving.

Dear God, he was becoming…weird. As weird as his three-days-gone partner. And to add injury to insult, there'd be no boinking, fucking, loving or sex of any kind tonight. Damn it.

At that moment, an unusual sound interrupted his pity party, leaving Jim with a cocked head as he concentrated his sense of hearing to identify….

Ah, carolers. He could hear the bells now and…okay, only one caroler…one voice…the voice….

_"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way. Oh, what fun it is to ride-in a one-horse open sleigh...hey!!"_

Jim shot up, took three quick strides to the windows, stepped out onto the balcony, and looked down….

…to find a singing, bell-ringing and bundled-up Blair standing in the middle of Prospect with the first snow of the season drifting down to leave small flecks of white in his partner's loose, curly hair.

Grinning up at him, Blair waved, the bells in his hand jingling merrily. "Hey, can Jimmy come out and play?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Jim asked stupidly.

"Besides singing to you? Well, I'm also getting ready to throw a few snowballs your way.  Care to join me?"

Heart pumping faster as the joy welled up within it, Jim felt the smile on his lips as he said with barely contained delight, "Hang on, on my way…."

With an eagerness he wouldn't have admitted to anyone, he grabbed his jacket and raced downstairs and outside - where he literally slid to a stop in front of his partner.

Blair's smile turned oddly shy as he saluted with two fingers. "Hi."

Breathless at the sight of his partner bathed in the yellow warmth of the street light, the soft snow flakes caught in its glow as they gravitated toward his curls, Jim could only manage a weak, but happy, "Hi, yourself."

They stood in the snow, smiling like idiots for God-knows how long - but finally Jim retrieved some semblance of intelligence and managed to ask,  "Aren't you supposed to be with Naomi?"

"Yeah, but…this is where I _wanted_ to be, so I came back. Mom understood."

Shocked, Jim croaked out, "You mean you'd rather be…" but that was as far as he got because, naturally, Blair finished his sentence for him.

"…with you than with Mom? Oh, yeah."

"But…I'm not your mother and I'm definitely not some leggy blonde, Sandburg," Jim responded rather stupidly.

Blair cocked his head and regarded him from under snow-dusted lashes. "No kidding?" He scratched the back of his head as if puzzled before grinning again. He then punched Jim lightly in the chest as he said, "Guess what, Jughead. You may not be Mom or a leggy blonde, but you are a leggy brunette who's got a hairline receding as I speak - and, oddly enough - that makes you exactly who I want… and this place precisely where I want to be."

Jim managed *not* to touch aforementioned hairline as he said, smiling again, "I am, huh?"

Blair's eyebrow arched in answer.

Jim's grin widened. "Well, then, how 'bout we skip the snow fight and move right to the--"

Once again Blair made finishing the sentence unnecessary but this time - this time it was because he'd dodged around Jim in order to take off for the loft. When he reached the door and yanked it open, he offered teasingly, "By the way, Jim…if you're waiting for Christmas - it's here."

With a sense of finally being right where he was supposed to be, with the person he was supposed to be with, and knowing exactly who _he_ was…Jim sighed softly, happily, as he thought, "Oh, yeah, Christmas is finally here, all right...."

The End

 

**Disclaimer:** All characters from **The Sentinel** are the property of Pet Fly Productions, Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Characters from any other television show, movie or book are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. We believe the works contained in this archive to be transformative in nature and therefore protected under the 'fair use' provisions of copyright law.

This story archived at <http://asr3.slashzone.org/archive/viewstory.php?sid=1375>


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